


Whose Heart Within His Breast Was Clay

by the_rck



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood, Deities, Deity/human, M/M, Magic, Sadism, Sex Magic, Sexual Slavery, Size Difference, Torture, Unhappy Ending, Unwilling sacrifice, Virgin Sacrifice, religious obedience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-11-29 06:41:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11435301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_rck/pseuds/the_rck
Summary: Gillam certainly hadn't volunteered, but when a god claims a man, the man has no choice.





	Whose Heart Within His Breast Was Clay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nonnymouse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonnymouse/gifts).



> I've deliberately not named the god here because the point of view character has no idea who he is. The god doesn't consider telling him to be at all important or relevant. The god in question is not meant to be any deity in particular.
> 
> I ran out of time for polishing this, and I apologize for that. I hope it suits anyway and that the ending is dark enough to please.
> 
> The title is paraphrased (changing from plural to singular) from Dorothy Parker's poem, "My Own."

Most of the time, they kept Gillam too drug fogged to be frightened. Or even more than vaguely aware of what was happening to him. He swam up from the depths a few times as they washed him and shaved him, as they walked him around a garden that he’d have liked to see more of. All of that, he thought later, happened more than once, probably many times.

Then, they let the drugs wear off.

He didn’t recognize the room where he returned to himsel, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to like whatever was coming. The shackle on his ankle that tethered him to one spot in the middle of a torchlit space was not reassuring. He could stand, but he couldn’t take more than three steps in any direction. There wasn’t enough light for him to see an exit or even walls. 

Maybe there weren’t any.

Then the torches flickered and, one by one, went out. The darkness and the silence fell on him like weights, and all he could do was sit on the floor and try to convince himself that he was neither frightened nor cold. He wrapped his arms around his knees and waited.

The man who’d picked Gillam out from among the prisoners hadn’t bothered to explain anything. Not that Gillam understood the language of the conquerors, but surely someone in the place spoke his language?

The man and his guards, four very frightening women in layered laquered armor, had led Gillam to a building that stood out from the rest in height and decoration. Once inside, they’d given him something that looked like water but had a sharp, bitter aftertaste. Beyond that, he remembered almost nothing, so he couldn’t guess why he was where he was or what his eventual fate might be.

Except that it couldn’t be anything pleasant. He couldn’t think of any reason for treating him as they had done if they were preparing him for anything a sane person might want.

He tried to think if he smelled anything, but the only odor he was certain was real was that of cold stone and steel. He couldn’t even smell smoke from the recently extinguished torches. He pressed one hand against the floor and rubbed a bit of his clothing between the thumb and fingers of his other hand. Those both felt real enough.

While there’d been light, he’d noted what he wore. The cloth was so finely woven that he couldn’t actually make out threads in the limited light. It was white with embroidered birds along the edges. Someone had spent months making it.

That was somehow even more frightening.

When light came again, it was blue-white and in a narrow, vertical slit almost directly in front of where he sat. The slit widened, and the light became so bright that Gillam had to shade his eyes. Gillam only caught the briefest glimpse of the being stepping through before he pressed his face to the ground.

The being was taller by half than the tallest man Gillam had ever seen and was clad only in light.

A god. This could only be a god and not a familiar one. Gillam started to pray to his own gods for protection then stopped himself as he realized that this god-- who was right there-- might find that disrespectful.

When a hand in his hair forced him upright, Gillam didn’t resist. He doubted that all of his strength would have bought him even a little give. He kept his eyes closed because he didn’t have permission to look.

The god said something that Gillam didn’t understand.

Gillam flinched and whispered, “I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

Fingers pressed into his forehead, and he felt for a moment that a burning spike had been pushed through his skull. He screamed.

“And now you understand,” the god said. He let go of Gillam’s hair. “Stand. I want to see what they thought was good enough this time.”

Gillam fell forward onto his hands then set his jaw and made himself stand. He had no idea what the price might be for disobedience, but a god might have power for anything. He kept his eyes closed and did his best to keep his breathing even during the silent minutes that followed.

Fingers tugged on his clothing. “You look acceptable enough with that on. Are you hiding something?”

Gillam had no idea how to address a god who was physically present. “I’m sorry,” he said in the barest whisper. “I’m so sorry.” He took a deep breath and added, “I didn’t pick the clothes.” He also didn’t want to think how cold he’d have gotten without them.

“Open your eyes.”

Gillam did.

The god touched Gillam’s shoulder and the clothing he wore began to unravel. In less than a minute, it was a heap of threads around his feet. The shackle around his ankle crumbled.

The god looked him up and down. “Acceptable.” He put a hand on Gillam’s chest. “I would rather a sacrifice that actually cost them something more than money, but… You are beautiful enough in the ways that matter. Yes. Definitely acceptable.”

Warmth spread from the god’s hand into Gillam’s body. Then the warmth became a burning. Gillam tried to move and couldn’t.

When the god finally stepped back, there were lines of light on Gillam’s chest that ran along his collarbone and down his arms. “No one else will touch you now.” The god smiled in a way that made Gillam feel like a mouse looking at a snake. “What one of us has claimed… Pray to other gods all you like. None will answer but me. We do each other that much courtesy.”

Gillam wasn’t really surprised, but he didn’t realize that until later. At that moment, the thought of being cut off from his own gods felt like having pieces of his flesh torn off. He made a choking sound of protest the realized what he was doing. If this god-- if any god-- wanted something from him, well, no human could refuse. He bowed his head.

The god hooked a finger under Gillam’s chin and forced him to look up. He ran his thumb over Gillam’s lips. “I will enjoy you. Count yourself lucky. You may not enjoy your time with me, but you would have enjoyed the aftermath of rejection far less.” He tilted his head to one side and then the other. Then he said very softly, “You will be mine after death, too. That is no escape. Do not seek it.”

Gillam stopped breathing for a moment. He managed the barest nod of acknowledgment.

“Nothing I do will kill you. You may think it will, and under other circumstances, it might, but you will be in my realm, in my hands. I choose everything that happens there.”

Gillam tried to make his mind work.

“I don’t care about your mind.” The god took two steps in the direction of the hole in reality. “Come.”

Gillam followed.

Stepping out of the world took less effort than Gillam expected, but the difference was immediate. The air was warm and smelled sweet, a mix of flowers and ripe fruit. They stepped onto grass, well manicured and lushly green, on the top of a small hill.

“I wanted you to see this.” The god swept an arm to indicate what lay below them.

Statues, more than Gillam could count. They were far enough away that Gillam couldn’t tell much but that they were human, some male, some female.

“They’re all in their personal heavens until I want them again. You might earn that. Or--” The god indicated the view from the other side of the hill. There were fewer figures there. They were all moving, and Gillam was certain that, if he could hear them, they’d be screaming. “There is this. I want them occasionally, too, but in between… This.”

Gillam swallowed hard. “They offended you.” He couldn't even make it a question.

“In various ways.”

Gillam closed his eyes for a moment and promised himself that, no matter what, he would please the god. His god now. He dropped to his knees and waited to be told what to do.

“I want your mouth first.” The god tangled his fingers in Gillam’s hair. “The first time is always special. They picked you because you'd never been fucked. I don't always like that-- Breaking arrogance appeals, too, but I usually have to find that myself.” 

Gillam shuddered then straightened his back. “I could…” He hesitated. “If you want that, maybe I could.” He wasn't at all sure he could hold the pretense in the face of what was likely, but… “You are my god now. My service--” He choked on the words as terror nearly overwhelmed him. He shrugged, hoping the god would understand.

The god laughed. The sky above them quivered as if it might shatter. “Open your mouth and suck me off then.” The hand that wasn't in Gillam's hair started working the god’s enormous cock.

Gillam couldn't keep back a whimper at the sight. He parted his lips and tried to relax his jaw. He wasn't sure that thing could even fit inside his mouth.

The god’s cock felt like an iron rod. There was no give at all against Gillam’s tongue or the back of his throat. Gillam couldn’t breathe, and his stomach was trying to turn itself inside out as he gagged. He tried very hard not to fight, but as his body became more and more desperate for air, he started to struggle.

The god held Gillam’s head so that he couldn’t move even a little. The god made sounds of pleasure as he forced his way in deeper. He seemed to particularly like the spasms of Gillam’s throat as it tried to expel him. He gave Gillam no chance to breathe at all and laughed when Gillam tried to push free.

Gillam’s throat hurt as if he’d swallowed an enormous bite of something hard that had scraped him, going down, and then gotten stuck. If he’d had breath, he’d have screamed. As it was, his eyes filled with tears of agony. He could barely form a thought at all. When he did, it was a prayer for unconsciousness.

“Not giving you that. Not ever.” The god sounded a little breathless as he kept ramming his cock into Gillam’s mouth and down his throat. “Your terror is too sweet.” Even when the god came, the agony didn’t end because the god didn’t go soft, just resumed fucking Gillam’s mouth in pursuit of another orgasm.

Of course, Gillam realized vaguely. A god wouldn’t be like a man. Not at all. After that, he went limp in the god’s grasp and let the pain swallow him. That was all that the god wanted from him, that and a tight hole for fucking. His throat continued tightening in an effort to clear the obstruction, and his stomach felt as if, in its efforts to escape Gillam’s body, it had risen to meet the god’s cock somewhere neither should be.

Gillam lost track of how often the god came. He just knew that his stomach was trying to reject what was being poured into it. The rape-- did he dare call it that? He wasn’t sure, not with a god. A god could do anything he wanted. The... whatever it was... went on and on until Gillam’s stomach started to feel as if it were stretching.

When the god finally pulled out and released his hold on Gillam’s hair, Gillam collapsed, coughing, inhaling desperate breaths, and trying very hard not to vomit. He curled up on the ground as if that would relieve the pain in his abused throat.

The god started rubbing Gillam’s back. “There’s nothing quite like the first time.” He sounded profoundly satisfied. “I don’t get many surprises, but each of you is different. You-- Your response to pain is exquisite.” He didn’t say anything for several seconds. “I never wanted to stop. Maybe I won’t. I can spare a bit of me to keep fucking you.”

Gillam shuddered and tried to curl in tighter. He couldn’t think of anything but how much he wanted the pain to stop. He wanted to beg for mercy, but nothing he’d observed gave him any hope that this god had mercy.

“My worshippers give me pretty toys. Always pretty.” The god’s hand touched Gillam’s throat and pressed just hard enough to cause a spike of pain. “They don’t actually understand what I want.” He laughed. “Perhaps the harvest will be extraordinary this year. Or perhaps… Are you worth a decrease in deaths from the summer fever season?” He pulled Gillam over onto his back, forcing his body flat on the ground. The god ran a hand over Gillam’s belly then pressed on his visibly distended stomach. “No man could do that. I won’t always look like this when I fuck you. I won’t always be this kind when I fuck you.”

Gillam closed his eyes as he tried not to think of how terrible something less kind might be. He flinched when the god flicked a finger against Gillam’s flaccid cock.

“I might enjoy playing with that.” The god sounded thoughtful. “But it hurts you men so much when I take it away.”

Gillam whimpered and tried to speak, but his throat wouldn’t cooperate. He wondered vaguely if his larynx had been crushed. Would he be able to breathe at all if that had happened?

“You won’t enjoy what I do if I let you keep it.”

Gillam doubted, somehow, that the god was actually going to take his opinion into account.

The god started laughing. He touched Gillam’s cheek gently. “Look at me.”

Gillam opened his eyes.

“You have never once forgotten that I am a god. That’s worth something, something… small.” The god stroked Gillam’s throat, and Gillam thought maybe he could speak again. The pain wasn’t gone, but it had changed, just a little. The god smiled. “I enjoy the pain and the fear. The damage is irrelevant.”

Gillam supposed that unrelenting pain was terrifying enough on its own. He also guessed that any… changes the god might make to his body could be reversed if the god chose. He might. He might not. Gillam would have no say. “A small thing…” he murmured. He made himself meet the god’s eyes for a moment but couldn’t face the depths he found there. He shook his head.

“Ah. You want things but nothing small.” The god ran one hand over Gillam’s chest. “Perhaps… Yes. Your family.” The god’s expression became distant. “The wind has taken your father and the older of your two sisters. Your mother and younger sister still live and your older sister’s son. I think I will give you that, his safety under my hand. Out of all of them, he is most at risk. Was. Is no longer. Perhaps you can earn the other two later.”

Gillam had assumed that he would never know what had happened to his family, so he said, “Thank you.” There were other things, prayers, rituals, that he would normally do to thank a god, but all of that was for when the god was distant. As gods were supposed to be.

“Perform well this next little while, and perhaps I will give you time to perform your mourning rituals. I will let their gods hear your prayers on their behalf.”

Gillam nodded. His throat ached from more than the physical abuse now.

The god stood. “Follow me.”

Gillam was more than a little surprised when he managed to stand and then to walk without staggering.

The god didn’t even look back to see if Gillam was coming. The god led the way up a short stair of about six steps that Gillam was quite sure hadn’t been there before. 

When they were both on the steps, Gillam glanced back and found himself looking at a closed door. He didn’t look back again. He had only the vaguest sense of the space they passed through, just that it grew darker as they went.

“I didn't fuck you in the offertory chamber because the priests were watching, but--” The god pointed at a dark archway that hadn't been there before. “They can't siphon my power here.”

Gillam nodded as if he understood and followed the god into the familiar looking room. Torches lined the walls, and stone squares felt rough and cold under Gillam's bare feet.

The god stopped and turned to grab Gillam's shoulder. He lifted Gillam effortlessly and threw him across the room.

Gillam landed hard, just short of the wall. He managed to control his fall enough not to hit his head, but he thought he heard something crack. His chest hurt when he inhaled, and one of his arms didn't quite want to work. He stopped trying to move. He kept his eyes on the god as he approached.

“I thought about silk sheets and rose petals,” the god said. “I like that, too, but this is more honest, more fitting for a sacrifice.” He used one foot to push Gillam's legs apart. “This is where we start. Later, I'll let you bleed until you can't move and decorate your walls with the stained sheets.” He came down to the floor and put a hand on Gillam's ass. “Keep your eyes open.”

Having the god pounding his ass was somehow worse than having him fucking his face. Gillam thought it might be because he had enough space to think. He felt himself splitting open and bleeding. He could see the god’s cock moving inside his body, distending his belly. His eyes followed the bulge, and he tried not to think about what parts of his body were being destroyed.

He couldn't figure out why he wasn't screaming or crying. He’d never imagined he could hurt this much. He raised his eyes to the god’s face in time to see his orgasm. There was a moment of stillness, of absence of expression, and Gillam wondered what happened in the real world when the god came.

After a moment, the god’s eyes focused again, and he studied Gillam’s face. He stopped moving. “You’re in shock.” He frowned. “I always forget how fragile you humans are. I should have made the alterations before I got this far.” He laid his hands on Gillam’s chest.

Gillam felt a sudden wash of fire through his body. His back arched with pain. His bones, his muscles, every inch of skin burned itself into his awareness. When it ended, he sobbed and tried to pull his limbs in close. He was left with a bone deep awareness that, no matter how much he hurt, he wouldn't die, he wouldn't pass out, his body would heal.

The god laughed and rocked his hips. “Your mind will stay with me now. No matter what I do.” His hands gripped Gillam’s hips and squeezed.

Gillam screamed as he felt things inside his body bruise and tear. He kept screaming as the god’s cock split him again and again. He had no idea, after, how long it went on, and it occurred to him that time probably meant something very different here than it did in the mortal world.

Eventually, however, the god stopped. He looked down at Gillam with almost no expression. He touched one hand between Gillam’s legs and said, “Blood sanctifies.” Then he smeared blood on Gillam’s cheekbones and in a vertical line in the center of his forehead. “I have taken you as mine. Body and soul.”

Gillam closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed hard. It wasn’t as if he had any say at all. Later, it came as no surprise that the marks were as permanent as those on his chest and arms.

The god flicked his fingers, and his hand was suddenly clean again. He touched the side of Gillam’s face. “I have not tasted your like in centuries. I feel like I could do anything!” This time, his laughter was light. “If I had a dozen like you, my people would rule the world. A hundred, and I would rule the heavens.”

Gillam licked his lips and forced the words out, “I serve as is my place.” He would, for as long as the god demanded and in any way the god demanded. No mortal could do otherwise.


End file.
